


Yours truly

by RumiReneeClarke



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 1888, Alternate Universe, Ballroom, Captivity, Crime, Dark, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Horror, Irredeemable, Jack the Ripper Murders, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, London, Mind Control, Mind Games, Ripper AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23159272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumiReneeClarke/pseuds/RumiReneeClarke
Summary: SOURCE: THE DAILY NEWSDATE: SATURDAY 30TH SEPTEMBER 1888A murder of the most brutal kind was committed in the neighbourhood of Whitechapel in the early hours of yesterday morning, but by whom and with what motive is at present a complete mystery.At a quarter to one o'clock Police constable Neill, 97J when in Mitre Square, Whitechapel, came upon the body of a woman lying on a part of the footway, and on stooping to raise her up, in the belief that she was intoxicated, he discovered that her throat was cut almost from ear to ear.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 7
Kudos: 39





	1. A MAN HUNTED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while listening to "Night journeys" (From "Dracula") by our man John Williams. It's perfection as always.

His black mantle swept through the unyielding fog in a dark alleyway down the East End of London. A narrow-brimmed silk top hat partially covered his pitch-black hair, the locks nearly reaching his broad shoulders. His plush lips pulled into a smirk for he was confident that tonight, his hunger would be satiated.

The end of October had always been his favourite time of year. A mask unnecessary as the peasants walking by only had mere seconds to see his face. Even if one of them would be able to identify him, the inept and mismanaged police force would soon follow a cold trail by a flick of his wrist. 

All of Whitechapel’s filth and finest had dressed up for All Hallows' Eve. Seedy by any standards, the crime-ridden sordid quarter was his perfect hunting ground. He knew every alley in the public squalor, every overcrowded pub, sweatshop, abattoir and house, or better said lack thereof. The abject poverty was spreading alongside its diseases and the commonalty only grew more desperate. 

He’d laughed at their feeble attempts to warn the mass; “Beware of the gal-sneaker!” Headlines read. “Monster on the loose!” Yet the streets were still crowded. Half of the East End was illiterate and most of the women, the unfortunates, made their pence and shillings from prostitution, a service in high demand by those wishing to escape grim realities. They often owned only what they wore and relied on unspeakable deeds to pay for their beds for the night. Their empty souls worthless, stripped of disposition and value, their deaths rarely acknowledged. 

Every fortnight he’d wander through the streets, inconspicuous as a spectre. The moon shining high in the gray sky, laying a veil over the foul and grime capital. The elderly and young were long gone headed bedward. He’d roam until he’d find one to his liking, forlorn and desperate. Often, he needn’t seduce them at all. The promise of safety and warmth within four walls made their eyes water and twinkle. It became too easy. The damsels who would soon meet their violent expiry would come too willingly and only partially satisfy his desire. Long gone were the days he’d put bane in their cheap gin to capture or lure them into the darkness of the night. 

This evening would prove different. On his stroll he’d surpassed several members of the Vigilance Committee, it seemed Detective McWilliam took the forged letters he’d received the last few weeks serious. Threats and malevolent promises in the name of ‘The Ripper’. It had been a phony, clearly discernible by the apparent writing errors, yet the coppers believed it. It was another clear indication they were truly lost in their search for the culprit. 

Perhaps it was divination, an omen, but he knew to take his quest elsewhere. It was beyond bold to forage in his own territory, amongst the upper class, where he was known and respected, but something drew him there, a sweet lingering scent amidst the foul stench of London, and he had to know the source. 

And so, an instant later, he found himself on the doorstep of Sir Melville Macnaghten, highly regarded and famously affable assistant commissioner, working hard on the case against the monster of Whitechapel, the man he considered a friend, who was now knocking on his door. 

Embellished jack-o'-lanterns illuminated the pathway towards the main entrance. He walked through these doors regularly and was once again welcomed with open arms. He’d declined the invitation earlier this week but found no trouble at his unannounced arrival, one wave of his hand and the servant stepped aside without a trace of resistance. 

Upon entering the ballroom he saw the festivities were thriving. Tables were full of exotic food, Champagne and Gin, imported from all over the world beside astonishing decorations that seemed rather butter upon bacon. The gentlemen were gallant, and the women wore formal evening gowns created out of fine silks. Glasses were clinking, spilling costly liquor on the floor. Cigars and cigarettes were lighted, forming clouds of smoke above the crowded dancefloor where guests were waltzing unashamedly. Their behaviour, although disguised by extravagance, reminded him of the pubs in the East End, as if he never left the slums. 

In the middle of all that loud cacophony, he felt a calm presence. Silence. 

Slowly he stalked the room, almost resembling a phantom, led by instinct, a feeling. His dark eyes gazed upon every face until he found a glimmering pair staring back. It startled him as he was supposed to be invisible, yet he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Her gown was simple, an elegant white A line made of lace and silk. Her hair was braided up with little wisps breaking free, exposing her slender neck. Her plush lips were slightly parted, and the blush on her rosy cheeks grew stronger by the second. It was only when his stoic expression turned into a smirk that she seemed to remember how to blink and turn her head elsewhere. That fleeting moment, he felt something. It exceeded his lust and hunger, it wasn’t driven by greed. No, this was something else. He believes it was genuine excitement. The girl had awoken a part of him he considered dead and forgotten, and now, he had to have her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags will be added with each chapter as to not ruin any possible twists. 
> 
> Loosely based on the case of Jack The Ripper. 
> 
> Find me on twitter: RRClarke1


	2. IS HE "LEATHER APRON"?

“Do not worry, you look wonderful.” Rey looked in the mirror to her father standing at the door of her room. “Thank you.” She smiled weakly. “Do I have to go?”. He stepped further into the room and sighed. “Rey, we’ve been over this. I will not make you marry a man you don’t know but you need to find a suitor. It’s time.” He spun her around and held her shoulders gently. “I’m certain someone out there will make you very happy, that’s all I want for you.” She shrugged “At a party? Why there?”. “Because everyone is going to be there.” She raised her eyebrows. “You mean aristocrats, nobles, dukes, wealthy people.”. Another sigh. “Yes, darling, I don’t want you to live in poverty, but most importantly, you’d be safe.” She couldn’t hold in her laugh as she walked towards her closet. “Safe? Lady Marjory and her bruises would disagree with the latter.” Rey saw her father get angry, as he did ever so often. “Do not make such allegations! Sir Reynolds is a reputable man! Now gather your things. You shall accompany me and that’ll be the end of it.”

She’d found the ballroom impressive and she even liked the music, but the small talk with the other ladies reminded her of how little they truly had in common. Their interests seemed to tread no further than gossip and the new fabrics at House of Worth, rumoured to be the Queen’s favourite. Rey wondered if they ever enjoyed reading a book like she did, or whether one of them secretly wished to be more, perhaps to be able to make her own gowns. She knew better than to ask them. She would only put her father to shame. Later, she found herself sitting alone by the wall, nurturing her second glass of champagne whilst observing the bourgeois. It was awkward and lonely. The noise only grew louder as time went on. 

Right before standing up to go find her father, she spotted a dark figure on the edge of her periphery near the entrance, she looked closer and saw a rather tall man look for someone or something in the room. He was dressed similar to most of the gentlemen inside, yet she felt something was different about him. Perhaps it was his towering height, his sharp features or simply the way he mysteriously carried himself, she didn’t know, but it got her attention. Lost in thought she missed the moment his gaze fell on her. When she realized what was happening, she started to blush profusely. It must have been abundantly clear she was watching him. It was curious how long their eyes were locked. Eventually it became too much and she fixated her eyes away on the dancefloor, trying to get herself together. It was the first time she felt seen. She quickly drank the last of her champagne so she wouldn’t look like a fool. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she gathered courage to look up again and when she finally did, she found he was gone, nowhere to be seen. She started questioning herself, doubting whether it had happened or not. She scanned the entire right side of the room, around the place where he stood, but found no luck. She put her empty glass on the tray of a passing servant and accepted her defeat, going back to moping on her chair. 

“Champagne?” She was startled by the low voice, raising the hairs on her neck. On her left side she found the man she’d been looking for, now offering her a smile and a glass of bubbly sweetness. His skin was pale, a stark contrast to his dark locks and eyes, he was certainly handsome. How did he get there so fast? And without her noticing? “Thank you.” She gracefully accepted. “What shall we toast to mister….?” “Ren. Kylo Ren.” She never heard that name before, but then again, she didn’t know most of these people by name. “And perhaps we can toast to Hallow’s Eve, miss…?” “Just Rey.” The glasses clinked and they both drank. “It’s nice to meet you, just Rey. I must admit I was wondering why a lovely girl like you is sitting here all alone.” Her face must have been a dark crimson. “I… I guess I was just waiting for something to happen.” He considered her a second before smirking. “Well then, it’s a good thing I’m here now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the chapter titles are actual headlines from the news back in 1888.
> 
> Please feel free to leave any thoughts. :)
> 
> Find me on twitter: RRClarke1


End file.
